When a Man Makes a Promise
by Veresna Ussep
Summary: Adam reflects on what Pa told him about making and keeping a promise.  A very short story, written as a response to a challenge in one of my groups to write something about "Promise"


Well, this is certainly not a major work, but a response to a 'Promise' challenge in one of the groups I belong to. It is definitely not meant to strictly adhere to either "_Bonanza_" or "_Ponderosa_" canon, and you can't really appreciate the ending without having seen the episode: _"Blessed Are They_." The plot came to me at work (I work night shift) and I came home and finished writing it while in a sleep-deprived state, so I will say it is not as complete and polished as I might like. But it did feel good to be writing again.

I guess after years of yearning for Severus Snape and Gregory House, I decided to combine the two into the incomparable Pernell Roberts, who was an incredibly attractive 'man in black' as Adam Cartwright as a young man, and then transformed into a grouchy but dapper physician, _Trapper John, MD _in his later years. Certainly doesn't hurt that he had a marvelous baritone singing voice as well.

There will be a major, book-length Adam story to follow, completely unrelated to this and it will be more of an adult nature, but I do hope you enjoy this:

**When a Man Makes a Promise**

"_Remember, Adam, that when a man makes a promise, he must never do so lightly. Because when a man breaks his promise, he not only disappoints others, but he dishonors himself as well."_

Pa had said that to him over fifty years ago.

He remembered the conversation clearly. It had been a beautifully warm and sunny spring day, and he had run home from school and raced up the stairs to his bedroom, anxious to continue reading his newest book. It was a large volume, handsomely bound, devoted to the subject of Roman architecture and engineering. Pa had absolutely beamed as he gave it to him, just days ago, as his special present for his fourteenth birthday. Picking up the book from his desk, he had thrown himself on the bed, lying on his stomach and cupping his chin in his hands as he studied the pages.

"Adam?"

Startled, he had glanced upward, surprised to see his father standing beside the bed. So engrossed had he been in his reading that he had not even heard the man enter the room.

"Did you forget something?" his father asked, quietly, tilting his head to the side as he raised his hands to his belt and cocked his elbows.

Puzzled, he had not immediately replied.

"I thought you were going to help me mend fences this afternoon," Pa had said quietly.

"Oh."

Yes, he had told Pa that he would help him with that as soon as he came home from school. But, somehow, in his excitement to continue reading the book, it had completely slipped his mind.

"Well, Hoss could help you with that, too," he began, "he's certainly big enough."

His father slowly shook his head.

"But Hoss didn't _promise _me yesterday that he would help me."

"Sorry, Pa," he mumbled, quickly moving to raise himself from the bed. "I'll go out right now-"

"Well, it's a little too late _now_," his father had murmured, nodding his head at the window. "Look how dark it is."

Adam glanced out the curtains and was surprised to realize that the sun was already close to setting. He hadn't realized how long he had been lying there on the bed, reading.

"I waited for quite a while, thinking that maybe you had stayed after school for something, and then I finally decided to finish the job myself," his father had added.

He had nodded, feeling his cheeks begin to burn as a flush began to spread over his face.

"You going to give me a whipping, Pa?" he had asked.

His father shook his head. "I think you're too old for that."

He had frowned and bit his lip for a moment, before somewhat reluctantly reaching down to retrieve the book from the bed.

"Here, Pa, I guess I don't deserve this, you better take it back," he said, holding out the book to the older man.

His father had hesitated for a moment, and then stretched out his own hand to take the book.

"Well, I'm not taking this back forever," he said. "But let's say I keep for a few weeks until we both decide you deserve to have it back."

He had nodded in agreement, staring down at the floor. A moment later, he felt his father's warm hand on his shoulder.

"Adam, I'm not angry with you," he had said, tenderly. "I just want to be sure that you think carefully before you give someone your promise to do something."

The hand had moved to his chin, gently urging his face upwards until their eyes met.

"Remember, Adam, that when a man makes a promise, he must never do so lightly. Because when a man breaks his promise, he not only disappoints others, but he dishonors himself as well."

He had swallowed and nodded again, and had been relieved to see a warm smile appear on his father's face.

"All right, let's go on down for supper."

Over twenty years later, he had stood in the front yard of the ranch house, carefully securing his knapsack to his saddle before turning back to face his father. The older man's hair had grown whiter over the years, but his face was still relatively unlined, and the dark, warm eyes were glistening with unshed tears as he regarded his eldest son.

"Pa,-" he had begun, and stopped.

"Adam, we've been all through this," his father had answered, quietly. "I know that you feel you have to go, and just as I felt I had to stop being a sailor, and follow my dream west…" His voice had trailed off as well, as he dropped his head for a moment and studied the ground. "You better get going," he said, raising his head and forcing a grin onto his face. "You've got a long ride ahead of you."

Adam had nodded and moved quickly to mount his horse.

"Just promise me one thing."

"What, Pa?"

Ben Cartwright raised a hand and affectionately patted Sport's neck for a moment. "Promise me that you'll come back some day. Not to stay," he added quickly, another sad smile appearing on his lips as he shook his head. "Just to visit. Sometime."

"I will," he had replied, looking down at the older man, and holding his gaze for a long moment. "I will come back to the Ponderosa some day. I promise."

"Go on," Ben had said, moving back and gesturing for him to be on his way.

"Yeah, go and git, big brother," Hoss had called out from the front porch. "You stay much longer and we're liable to find some work for you to do."

"Oh, Adam's not really lazy," Joe had jeered from his spot, sitting down on the front step, "he just prefers to work with his mind rather than his hands."

"Well, he better be careful. I swear, Little Joe, if our brother gets any smarter that big ole head of his is likely to bust wide open!" added Hoss.

"Enough of that, you two," warned Ben, his voice dropping down into a growl as he pointed a stern finger at them. "Say goodbye nicely to your brother. You may not see him for awhile."

"Bye, Adam," said Hoss, his big mouth breaking into a gap-toothed grin even as he surreptitiously raised a hand to wipe a tear from his eye. "Take care of yourself."

"Yeah," said Joe, rising to his feet and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Don't get so far away that you can't holler for help if you need us!"

"Oh, I'll be alright," he had answered, pushing his hat back on his head. "Just you three stay out of trouble!" he called, looking back over his shoulder for just a moment before spurring on Sport with his heels and galloping out of the front yard.

And out of their lives.

At first the letters were frequent, short and chatty. Just little notes telling him what was going on at the ranch, and in Virginia City. Who was Little Joe's latest romantic interest, how Hoss was trying to diet again, a short mention of the weather and the latest cattle drive. And then, as his travels continued to take him farther and farther away, the letters became more infrequent, but longer, the intimate family confidences interspersed with dry details regarding the ever-expanding Cartwright empire. It might be nearly a year before they wrote to each other, and as they were never quite certain where he would be, he sometimes received two or three together when they finally caught up with him.

It had been that way with that awful news. He had opened the first, small envelope, and stared down at the words:

_Hoss is dead. Can you come home for the funeral?_

He had sat, frozen in shock for a moment, and then slowly opened up the other envelope. Here was a longer letter, written in turns by both Pa and Joe, as if neither could bear to tell the whole story alone, having to share the burden of the horrible news in order to withstand the grief. How the strong, vibrant young man with the honest and warm nature had simply collapsed one evening as he stepped into the house. Dead, sad Doc Martin sadly, before he had even hit the ground.

"His heart just plumb wore out on him," he had told them gently.

The heart, which had always been filled with love and compassion, quick to defend the weak and unprotected, and overflowing with true kindness and affection for the whole of humanity, had not been up to the task of continuing to beat within that broad, tender chest.

He had ridden nearly twelve hours to find the nearest telegraph office.

_Just received your letters. Shall I come home?_

He had haunted the telegraph office for the next two days, until finally receiving the reply.

_No. We understand. You are needed there._

And somehow, despite his best intentions, he had never found the time or opportunity to return to the ranch. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, another fifteen years had passed and now it was a letter from Joe telling him of Pa's death.

"I hope you understand, Adam. It's just too hard to try and run the ranch by myself, even with Jamie's help. When Laura and Will, came for the funeral, I asked Will if he would consider staying on and helping."

Yes, he understood. But even as he cursed himself for not being able to overlook the hurt, he just could not face going back and seeing Will and Laura still happily married after all these years while he still had yet to find someone to share his life.

Then, just four years later, Will's letter had come, warning him that everyone thought Joe seemed suddenly old and tired. But no one could convince him to see either of the new doctors in town, they were a bunch of 'know-it-alls', with none of the common sense like old Doc Martin. Adam had just been finishing a letter to Joe anyway, now he ended it with a threat that '_if you don't take better care of yourself, little brother, I'll just have to come back to the Ponderosa, hog-tie you and carry you over to the doctor myself!_"

But before he could make the final arrangements to sail home, a note arrived from Joe himself, chiding Adam for 'worrying himself over nothing'.

"_As much as I would love to see you, big brother, no need to hurry back to the Ponderosa. All I need is a little rest, and I'll be right as rain and rarin' to go. You know nothing keeps a Cartwright down for long!_"

He had somehow deluded himself into believing Joe's lies, delaying a visit back home again until it was too late. There was a stiff formality in Will's letter this time, an underlying hint of disappointment that he had not hurried home immediately, that he had not managed to see Joe one more time before he died. After a brief description of Joe's death, funeral and burial, there was a stilted and business-like explanation that he and Laura needed to move on West to be near Peggy and her growing family, and that Jamie was marrying a local girl and entering into a partnership for a new store in town. Anyway, the prosperous, glory days of the cattle-driving ranges were long over, so what was the point of trying to keep the Ponderosa open as a working ranch?

Swallowing his pride as best he could, Adam replied that Will should do as he thought best. Sending off the proper documents to give Will the right to act in his name, he told him to sell off some of the prime farmland to the most deserving families of their acquaintance, and to rent out the land and ranch house for a while.

Then another ten years had passed. And here he was, finally, back at the old homestead, standing in the yard and gazing at the house that he had proudly designed and built. He had purposefully used good, strong material, for this was a structure that was meant to house generations of Cartwrights. But, instead, it stood silent and empty, the last renters long gone; a lone structure surrounded by worn, weathered, crumbling outbuildings.

Taking off his hat, he shrugged and reached up to scratch the skin on top of his head. The dark hair which had been so abundant when he left had long since turned silver and thinned away, and his once-smooth and tanned cheeks were now covered with a grey and white beard.

"Guess I'm a little worse for wear myself," he thought, allowing himself a small, sardonic chuckle.

Sighing, he placed his hat back on his head and squared his shoulders. He still had to visit the cemetery, pay his respects there, and place a fresh bouquet on each of the gravesites. But he needed to say something first, to say it here and out loud.

"I'm sorry, Pa," he said, having to stop and clear the hoarseness from his throat before continuing. "I made a promise to you. I meant to come back, before this, I really did. But it never seemed to be the right time…"

His voice trailed off and his shoulders sagged as he stared down at the ground.

"But I did come back, Pa, I kept my promise " he said, his voice gathering some strength as he raised his head. "The doctors tell me that I've only got about a month left to live. Maybe they're right, and maybe they aren't. But at least I did get here, Pa. On my own, and not carried here in a pine box."

He glanced around the empty front yard once more.

"We built an empire, Pa, a mighty fine one."

He sighed again.

"Just wish we had someone to leave it to."

He turned and walked slowly back to the buggy, his limbs stiff and achy as they always seemed to be these days. As he steeled himself to withstand the pain of hauling himself up onto the bench, he suddenly heard the sound of hoofbeats behind him.

Turning, he was sruprised to see a fine grey gelding stepping into the yard, ridden by a tall woman sitting on a side saddle. Taking off his hat, he swept his eyes over her. She appeared to be about forty years of age, with just a touch of grey in her dark hair, and there was something slightly familiar about her as she reined in her horse and bent down to study him.

"You needn't be alarmed," he said, smiling apologetically. "I'm not a trespasser, I'm just the last of the family that owns this land," he said, gesturing around the courtyard with his other hand as he held his hat in front of him.

"I thought so!" she exclaimed, her own face breaking into a happy grin.

In an instant, she had dismounted from her horse and hurried over to him.

"Adam Cartwright!" she said, laughing softly as she tilted her head back to look at him.

"Do we know each other?" he asked, slightly embarrassed, placing his hat back on his head. "I'm afraid it's been a long time-"

"Over thirty years," she said, laughing again. "All right, I'll give you a clue."

With a mischievious twinkle in her eye, she gestured towards the old well that stood to the side of the yard. "Do you remember having to fish my doll out of that well-twice?"

"Sue Clarke!" he said, instantly, and in a moment he found himself hugging her.

"Well," she said, reluctantly pulling away, "it's Sue Jacobson now."

He smiled down at her. "Mr. Jacobson is a lucky man."

"Aren't you going in the house?" she asked after a moment, looking over his shoulder at the front porch.

"No," he said, shaking his head and pushing his hands into his coat pockets. "It's too full of memories and too empty of people right now. I was headed out to the gravesites." He paused for another moment. "Sue, would you mind coming with me?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"All right," she said, nodding her head sympathetically.

Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he stepped past her, reaching out to grasp the reins of her horse. Tying the gelding to the back of the buggy, he walked back to where she was waiting.

"Now, may I escort you to the wagon?" he asked, holding out his arm.

She laughed and nodded. "But first-"

Reaching up, she carefully straightened his tie and then raised her hands to adjust his hat to a more rakish angle.

"My goodness," she said, as she linked her arm with his, "you look handsome!"

**The End**

Note: If you could somehow see the episode "Blessed Are They," (I don't know, maybe YOU could see it on a TUBE somewhere?), there is a wonderful scene where it is taking the combined efforts of Pa, Little Joe and Hoss to get Sue's squirming twin brother Kenny dressed for church, while Adam is assigned the task of helping the little girl into her best bonnet and cloak.

After tying the bow on her cloak, he smiles and says: "My goodness, you look pretty!" Then, after adroitly fastening on the bonnet as well: "Now, may I escort you to the wagon?"

Sweet scene. Sweet man.


End file.
